To Feel Alive
by WiccaWitch
Summary: He'd always been drawn to her, but never approached her. Now, years after the war, he's still watching her, but he can't watch her die a little each day anymore. He has to act, has to bring her back to her shinning self she used to be.
1. Chapter 1

Thank you krazyredhead0317 (aka Krystle) for the beta on this one. Any remaining mistakes are my own. I have to give further props to Kyrstle for helping with the dance scene, without her expertise I think that scene would have fallen short.

To Nocturnalwriter777 (aka Meg) without you inquisitiveness and ideas I would have stayed stuck at page 7 forever. You have been fabulous my dear! This story is dedicated to you!

~~Part 1~~

He never intended to watch her. She was never his type. Always a know-it-all and she was bossy to everyone around her. But something about her intrigued him. Perhaps it was knowing she helped defeat the darkest wizard in generations. Or perhaps it was simply that he'd heard about her since the time he was thirteen years old.

No pureblood was ever supposed to feel anything for a Muggleborn except contempt or revulsion. At least according to his parents, anyway. He'd been taught that Muggleborns stole their magic. Well, if that were true then they shouldn't be able to wield it effectively. Except, she was an exception to that rule too. Every spell she ever did, she did with precision and expertise.

He knew she was a bookworm. There was no denying that. He'd seen her in the Hogwarts library enough times to come to the conclusion that she lived there instead of her tower. During his fourth year, he would watch her study, devouring knowledge like others did Honeydukes' chocolates. She was insatiable in her quest to know everything. His study of her was always covert of course. To do anything else just went against his nature. He wasn't a bleeding heart Hufflepuff after all. At nearly fifteen years old, he'd been infatuated with the _enemy_. There wasn't anyone he could tell about it either.

After years of watching her, he still wasn't sure what it was that drew him to her. Whatever it happened to be, he really didn't care anymore. He simply _knew_ there was something about her that drew him. He figured it had to be the strength in her. Not just in her magic, but in her character, her loyalty, her devotion to those around her. The one thing he knew beyond anything else was that he respected her. Of course there was more to it than simple respect, but that was the only emotion that he was willing to admit to.

Watching her made him remember a story told to him by his grandmother when he was a small boy about a connection at the elemental level. The story told of a sense of _knowing_ different from second sight that sprung from a witch or wizard's magical core. The story had fascinated him as a boy; he always pictured lighting sparking when the magical cores connected. Now, as a man, he was of the mind that his grandmother's stories were truths to prepare him. He wasn't sure he was ready for what it might mean though, or what exactly he should be prepared for.

He'd spent years waiting to see if the feeling of being drawn to her would pass. Years of watching, listening, hoping that the sense his grandmother spoke so fondly of would pass. But now, six years after the war had ended, he would swear that something about her called to something deep inside him. He felt as though the string was being pulled tight and he needed her to know him. Really know him. But if she knew who he was, there was no guarantee she would give him the chance, so he watched. And waited.

For years he'd gone through life by observing those around him. Making decisions based upon the unspoken. He knew there were many things that a person could discern about others by simple observation. He'd learned much about her by watching while they were in school together, and for the last month, he'd made a point of watching _her _again_._ Learning her schedule. Learning her patterns, her behaviour outside of work. One thing that he'd noticed about her was that she smiled less as the weeks passed.

It was time to stop watching and time to start taking action. His wait was over.

~~~HG~~~

The first note he sent was simple, just a single line. A single question, signed with a single initial.

~_What's your heart's desire?~_

A

The answer he received in reply shocked him to his core.

_~To feel…alive!~_

H

_**Two weeks later**_

Five years, three months, and twenty-two days. That's how long she'd been working for the insipid idiots at the Ministry. Unfortunately, not only is the job mind numbingly dull, but she worked with some of the most narcissistic busybodies in all of Britain.

Hermione lightly banged her forehead down on her desk, lightly tapping the surface over and over again. The action was certain to give her a raging headache. But it's either that or she screams at the idiots surrounding her to shut their damn pie holes! The inane chatter of these empty-headed imbeciles is enough to drive a person as insane as that bitch, Bellatrix. All around Hermione the gossipmongers talk about this case, or that case, or who's screwing who, and the lot of it doesn't matter. None of it matters. The Wizarding World is finally at some semblance of peace, there isn't any big bad to chase after, just petty crooks. _Gods, how did I get stuck in such a boring, empty, dead-end job?_

Oh yes, Kingsley asked so sweetly. Blast the man, she never could tell him no. He'd begged and pleaded that he needed someone that could read over the Auror's reports and map activity. Look for clusters of dark activity, remnants of Voldemort or the rising of a new dark leader. Crime mapping is one of those things that had been picked up from the Muggle world. In some respects, it pays to have a Minister that isn't stuck on the traditional wizarding ways and is willing to incorporate some Muggle practices as well. In other ways, what they were doing was allowing a damn 'witch hunt'. Pardon the phrase, but in essence, that's what was going on.

Hermione's department of the Ministry essentially tracks activity, but are only able to track what the Aurors show in their reports. So of course, the data is going to be skewed. There are certain Aurors that believe, despite being cleared by the Wizengamot, that certain wizards and witches are still practicing the dark arts for nefarious purposes. _Well, duh!_ Of course some are going to still practice the dark arts. They don't just go away because you killed the darkest wizard out there. As for nefarious purposes, Hermione wasn't so certain about that. But then again, being stuck at a desk so long she could hardly tell what's going on outside the office.

Thinking of her job and the Auror reports that come in day in and day out, it's all she can do not to snort in derision. Half of the morons can't even write legibly. How they ever made it through Hogwarts with marks high enough to get in to be an Auror is beyond fathoming. Staring at a recent report handed to her by Auror Jenkins, she wonders if anyone ever taught the incompetent morons, known as Aurors, what penmanship was.

For more than five years now she'd been stuck at this desk. Four and half of them spent going to Kingsley trying to change jobs. But then what does our dear Minister do, but play the guilt card in order to keep Hermione right where she is. Saying that 'the work you do is paramount to the safety and security of the Wizarding World'. _Bull shit!_ The work of this office only serves to keep persecuting witches and wizards that don't deserve it. Most days, Hermione truly hated her job. Hated that she was stuck at a desk. Hated that she was living a life that she didn't want. This was never her plan.

She had to get out of there. She needed to go somewhere, before she screamed and everyone began staring. Most days she could keep her emotions under control. Most days she didn't feel like killing her coworkers. Today was not most days.

Hermione decided that she had to leave. It was the only way to keep her cool and to save face. She straightened the papers on her desk, not that they really mattered, and headed for the exit. Only one person noticed her hasty retreat from the chaos of the office and followed her out.

Standing out on the balcony overlooking the atrium full of lush green trees, flowers, and a flowing waterfall, Hermione realizes that there has to be more to life than what she has now. Sighing, she braces her arms on the railing and closes her eyes.

"I thought I might find you here."

Keeping her eyes closed, Hermione bows her head and smiles. "You would be the only one to notice I was gone."

"I'm your best friend!"

Hermione laughed loud and long. "Just don't tell the boys. They'd be crushed to know their position has been usurped!"

"Awe, you wound me." Placing her hand over her heart, she faked being hurt. "I haven't told them in four years, what makes you think I'd ruin our secret now?"

"What am I going to do Pans? I can't keep coming here. Can't keep doing this job day in and day out. We aren't accomplishing anything." Hermione turned around and leaned her back against the rail.

Smiling a conspiratorial smile, Pansy leaned against the rail with her best friend. "I think you need a night out with the boys." Hermione crinkled her nose. "No, not those boys. The _other_ boys!"

When Hermione and Pansy first started becoming friends it was the former Slytherin that laid out the truce card, surprising Hermione. It started with lunch and spiraled from there. The two women are seen frequently having lunch in the Ministry Café, in Diagon Alley, or in Muggle London. Pansy made a point to introduce Hermione to the finer points of clothes shopping. To which Hermione would give a speculative look, as she was never one to enjoy shopping. Nevertheless, she ended up taking to shopping with Pansy like a fish to water.

Hermione bumped Pansy with her hip. "I don't know if I could handle the boys right now."

Pansy bumped Hermione back, causing both girls to laugh as Hermione stumbled a step. "You know the boys love you almost as much as they do me. And besides, you need to have a little fun."

Hermione fiddled with the cuff of her sleeves. Pansy tilted her head to the side and gave Hermione a curious look. "Spill!"

"There's nothing to spill." The look Pansy gave her, told Hermione that she wasn't buying it.

"Uh uhn, and I'm Santa Clause."

"I am never letting you watch another movie." Hermione shook her head giggling.

"Awe, come on. I just need to find the jolly old man, push him off a roof, grab his coat, and POOF, I've got the job!" Pansy emphasized the word poof by popping like Genie coming out of the lamp in Aladdin.

Despite her best efforts Hermione broke down into guffaws of laughter once again. Being with Pansy was good for the soul. Though, Hermione doubted she would ever admit that out loud. It would feed her friend's ego far too much.

"Alright Santa, you win." Hermione pulled a parchment from the pocket of her robes, toying with it for a moment before handing it to Pansy.

"What's this?"

"The first."

Opening the small parchment, it was hard not to notice the worn edges of it and the well worn feel of the parchment. Hermione was sure her friend would notice and wonder how many times it had been read. If Hermione was being honest with herself she'd admit that she'd read the note a couple hundred times over the last two weeks. It was a simple note, just four short words. But the feeling that Hermione had just from holding the parchment defied all logic.

That simple sheet of parchment made her feel as though electricity was running through her veins instead of blood. She didn't even know who wrote it. It was only signed with a single initial. But for some reason, that didn't seem to matter. Hermione knew, without knowing how she knew, that the sender cared about her. That was a feeling she hadn't felt in a long time. Knowing that she was cared about.

She didn't doubt that Ron loved her. She knew he did. But there was something different about the sender of _this_ parchment. Something different about _this_ feeling. This simple note had been the first of many. The sender's owl staying with her until she had a reply ready. Her first reply had taken her nearly two days to craft, and it had been shorter than her mysterious sender's question.

The smile on Pansy's face tells Hermione everything she needs to know. No matter who her mysterious sender is Pansy thinks it's a good idea.

"So, what did you say?"

"You don't want to know who he is?"

"To hell with who he is. I like him already. What did you say?"

"Do you remember the day I was having two weeks ago?"

"Of course I do. You'd had a fight with Kingsley and that idiot redhead of yours." Hermione scowled. "Oh, don't look at me like that. You know as well as I do that he's an idiot. Think about it Hermione, he was trying to make you become a housewife. Again!" Pansy crossed her arms across her chest and stared at Hermione in that no-nonsense way of hers.

"I know, I know. It's becoming a common argument between him and I. I've been with him for seven years Pans."

Pansy loosened her stance and embraced her friend. "I know sweetie. But listen, no more talk about him. Let's talk about the new him!" She waggled her eyebrows and gave a smirking grin.

Shaking her head and hugging her friend back, Hermione answered, "I told him I wanted to feel alive."

"Well alright then! I think you definitely need a night out with the boys. And on the way you can tell me if you've gotten any more of these notes."

~~~~PP~~~~

Sitting back in her chair grinning like that cat that ate the canary, Pansy sighed happily. It had been a very productive afternoon. She'd learned that Hermione's mystery man was a world traveler who worked as a freelance translator, curse breaker, and Arithmancer. Pansy was quite pleased with whomever this mystery man was; he was opening Hermione up to so much more than that red headed idiot Hermione had spent years with. Shaking off thoughts of that idiot, Pansy relished as she thought about how the rest of her plan for the day came together.

It took her all of two hours to get the _boys_ to agree to her suggestion. And by suggestion she meant demand. Pansy never took no for an answer, especially where her friends were concerned. The boys would meet them at Chester's at ten sharp.

It made Pansy chuckle every time she thought of the _boys_, who weren't really boys at all, but men of immense power and a sexy mix of Slytherin. Part of being friends with Pansy meant being friends with Pansy's friends, especially when she wanted to have a good time. The boys were reluctant at first to accept Granger into their midsts, but they soon found she wasn't the stuck up pretentious person they thought her to be. Although, Draco had been the hardest one to convince. Yet, Pansy had a theory on that as well, oh yes, in the realm of Pansy's thinking, the banter and insults between Hermione and Draco was one giant game of foreplay. The rest of the crew – Greg, Blaise, Marcus, and Theo – accepted Hermione like a kid sister, a sexy kid sister that they had to keep all the other boys away from.

"You know I have plenty of 'club' clothes, you make me go shopping every time we go out with the boys."

Pansy sighed, clearly frustrated. "You know that going out always constitutes a new outfit."

"I get many more new outfits and I'm not going to have any closet left."

Pansy gave her friend her doe eyed look saying please in that long drawn out way of hers. Hermione shook her head and smiled. "You know that I can never say no when you do that."

Pansy smiled giddily. "And that's why I do it!" Pansy looped her arm with Hermione's and steered her towards the exit. "I'm thinking short, black, and definitely slinky." Hermione could only laugh as her friend described the clothes they would wear.

"I was thinking more blue than black, and definitely not short, but most certainly slinky."

"Girl, you have to go short, and blue is a Ravenclaw colour, it does not look good with your complexion. Now green, there's a good color for you."

"Am I to be a Slytherin now?"

Pansy laughed. "Every damn day for the last four years."

Shaking her head, Hermione pulled Pansy in to the apparation area and whisked them away to Rosethorne's Boutique.

"Ms. Parkinson, Ms. Granger, how lovely to see you ladies again. Another night out with the boys?"

The girls laughed together, "You know us well Rosethorne."

"Do you have anything black, short, and slinky?"

"For you Ms. Parkinson, I have many things short, black, and slinky." He laughed with a conspiratorial smile. "And for Ms. Granger, what colour are you wishing for this evening?"

Hermione gave a sly smile. "I was thinking something sheer and maybe in a deep green." Pansy smiled approvingly at her choice of colour.

Rosethorne had half a dozen outfits for each of the women in the blink of an eye. For Pansy, he'd certainly found short and slinky, though instead of all black, some of it had a green sheen to it while one was definitely navy blue. Pansy nixed the navy blue immediately on principle. Hermione laughed, her friend certainly had a thing against Ravenclaws!

"Rosethorne?" Hermione called, when she had his attention, she continued, "Can you take the shimmery green of that outfit," Hermione pointed to one on Pansy's rack, "and apply that to this one?" She indicated the outfit in her hand.

"Of course, Ms. Granger!" Rosethorne took the slinky outfit from Hermione and went to his back workroom.

"Tell me more about these letters you've been getting. You've only shown me one, told me of a few others, and I know there have to be more." Pansy called out from across the wall dividing changing stations.

"There isn't much to tell. It's been very platonic."

Pansy scoffed, "Please, there has to be more to it than 'what do you want in life'."

Hermione laughed. "In one he asked where I would live if I could choose anywhere."

"And?"

"And what? What do you say to that? I sent him back a question of my own instead of an answer." Pansy looked at her over the divider, Hermione smirked back. "I didn't ask him anything racy, geeze, I'm not you. And I say that with all the love I have!"

Pansy tapped her foot and cocked her head to the side. Hermione just shook her head. "I asked him for his favorite memory."

"Are you kidding me?! You couldn't think of anything better. Like, what's his favorite position?"

Hermione swatted at her friend with a shocked look upon her face. "PANSY!"

"What? It's what I'd want to know." Pansy came out of the changing stall. "What do you think?"

Hermione admired the outfit Pansy had chosen. The skirt came to just below her buttocks and showed off Pansy's tan, toned legs. The top was strapless and accentuated her ample cleavage. Instead of being black, as Pansy had originally asked for, it was a green so dark that it was almost black.

"It is certainly the epitome of you."

Just then Rosethorne returned with Hermione's outfit. Taking it from him, Hermione shimmied into it. When Hermione stepped out of the changing stall she was wearing a floor length satin emerald green skirt that was slit all the way up to the waistband, a cropped satin top and a mesh cover. Imagining it with smoky make-up, Pansy quickly deemed Hermione club worthy!

Pansy stood up straighter and preened. "Oh, and we're not done with that other conversation."

Hermione shook her head and smiled. "Of course we aren't."

~~~_Entrance~~_~

Lights shimmered and flashed outside the gleaming three-story building that housed the ever popular Chester's Club. A line of patrons anxiously awaiting entrance was lined up alongside the east wall of the building. Two bouncers were outside the set of double doors, one controlling the crown line and the other letting in the VIP guests.

Pansy and Hermione arrived in true Pansy fashion. The women didn't apparated in. Oh no, they arrived in a carriage fit for a princess right in front of an emerald green carpet that led straight to the door. Photo bulbs popped and flashed around the two young witches as they descended the carriage steps. Pansy was eating up the attention, while Hermione smiled and simply sauntered up to the door trying her damnedest to ignore the cameras. The bouncer wasted no time in admitting the two women, after all they were well known here.

Inside the club were dozens of white and colored lights flashing about the dance floor from the twenty-foot ceiling. The beat of the music went straight to Hermione's hips as she swayed while walking. Pansy hooked her arm in Hermione's and turned her away from the dance floor and up a short set of stairs to a private room where the _boys_ waited.

Entering the room, Hermione took in the site of the boys, who were not boys in the least but well honed men. Blaise sat closest to the door an over tanned bimbo (Hermione was sure) perched on his lap flirting with Draco, who sat next to Blaise. Blaise didn't mind, since the silly man never seemed serious about anyone. Behind Draco, leaning up against the wall was the tall and very well muscled Marcus. He was brooding into his drink while watching the crowd outside their window. Hermione made a mental note to ask him later why he was brooding this time.

Hermione was grabbed in a bear hug from behind and lifted off her feet. She squealed a bit startled by the action but calmed immediately. Feet once more firmly on the floor she turned and hugged Greg then kissed him quickly on the cheek. She never tired of seeing him blush.

The only one they were missing was Theo. Looking around the room, she laughed and all eyes turned towards her. No, they weren't missing Theo at all; he was simply hidden behind Pansy, who happened to be on his lap kissing him most soundly. Pansy quit kissing Theo and turned towards Hermione, her forehead still leaning on Theo's and simply smiled. Pansy was never shy, never would be, and Hermione envied that about her friend.

Oh Hermione wasn't a prude or stuck up or anything of that sort. She simply was reserved. She supposed it was too much time around Harry and Ron and having to temper their emotions that she quickly learned to temper her own and not be overt in them. But here, surrounded by Slytherins she didn't have to be. Her mind momentarily wandered back to one of her mysterious notes, _let yourself feel everything_. And she wanted to, she truly did. She just didn't know how.

Her contemplation must have shown on her face, because the next thing she knew Draco was there behind her, hands on her hips, lips to her ear. "You're being serious again." His fingers played with the slit in her skirt, softly brushing the exposed skin of her thigh. "Just feel Granger."

_Feel._ How did one simply feel and not think? She wanted to feel, she wanted fun, she wanted to feel alive.

He must have read her thoughts, or it showed somehow, because his next words mirrored her own thoughts. "I know you want to let go, to be carefree. But you're too stuck on the rules. Sod the bloody rules and listen with your body, your heart. Yes, Granger dear, I do have a heart." She laughed; he knew her well. "Let's go dance."

Closing her eyes, she tried to shut off the voice in her head and simply felt the presence of Draco's body behind her, the slight sway of his hips and she realized that she was swaying with him. Sometimes the body just knows. She chanced a glance at Pansy, who was too busy snogging Theo to pay her any mind. But Blaise saw them and nodded his approval.

She'd come to think of this group of _boys_ as her brothers and her friends. Who'd have ever thought? Hermione laughed again, grabbed a hold of Draco's hand and pulled him out the door.

Out on the dance floor in the crush of bodies all around her, Hermione was finally able to get her brain to shut up. She focused on the beat of the music and the feel of Draco's hands on her hips. She had her back to his front, her arms held up behind her and her fingers curled around Draco's neck. The feel of dancing with him was intoxicating. It made her wish that she could see him in a more romantic sense, but she didn't, there was just something _wrong_ in that thought.

Minutes passed and the tempo increased, Draco leaned into her, his lips at her ear. "I'm getting a drink, care to join me?"

Hermione simply shook her head and pushed further into the throng of people. She could hear Draco laugh behind her. She thought he might have said something like 'good girl', but she wasn't sure.

Songs came and went and still Hermione danced. She'd lost track of the number of times a new person sidled up to her to dance. But none lasted long, only a single song, maybe two. She wondered if her _brothers_ kept glaring or cursing her dance partners away. The song changed to one she recognized, the beat was slow and the bass was thumping, as they seeped into her skin and flowed through her body. The thought about her _brothers'_ protective qualities didn't last long though, when someone knew joined her in a rhythmic swaying of bodies.

This new partner felt like electricity had struck her body. Everything in her stood up straighter and took notice. He was behind her, much like Draco had been. She had her hands above her head and was slowly bringing them down her body. His hands joined hers in their travel. His hands were on top of hers, roaming down her neck, her chest, brushing the sides of her breasts and down her flat stomach. She melded her body to his, his breath on her neck, his hands on her hips; he'd trapped her own hands under his.

The scent of musk and spice mixed together surrounded her. Damn but he smelled good. She wanted to turn around, to see who was dancing with her. But he kept her still, kept her pinned with her back against his chest.

"Do you feel alive?" The words were whispered in her ear and a slip of paper slid into her hand, before the warmth of his body left her. Hermione whirled around, needing to see who had just been there. But by the time she'd turned he's melted into the crowd and she had no idea who he'd been.

Standing stock still in the middle of the crowd she unfolded the paper in her hand.

_The way you dance sets the rhythm of my heart._

-A

Hermione turned in frantic circles; the blood pumping in her ears was drowning out the sounds of the music. He'd been here. He'd touched her. He'd felt positively electric!

In the private room up the stairs, Marcus watched out the window. He'd seen Hermione dancing with all sorts of men, even some women. She hadn't been discriminate. When he saw her start to panic, he became concerned.

"Something's wrong with our girl!" He called out over his shoulder as he quickly stalked out the door and down to the dance floor.

Each of the male occupants in the room immediately stopped what they were doing and charged out the door. The woman who'd been in Blaise's lap suddenly found herself dumped on the floor, completely flabbergasted. She pouted a moment waiting for another of the men to turn their attention to her. When they didn't she picked herself up off the floor and stomped out of the room.

Pansy waited in the room, watching the crowd below for any signs of what might have set Hermione off. She knew her friend wouldn't wig out for just anything. Pansy wondered briefly if she'd been threatened, but discarded the thought. Hermione was a competent witch who had held her own against Death Eaters. A rogue on a dance floor wouldn't have her spinning in circles looking panicked.

Pushing their way through the crowd, Blaise, Marcus, Theo, Draco, and Greg all circled around Hermione, menacing looks upon all their faces for those they passed, but grave concern once they reached Hermione.

The paper fluttered out of Hermione's hand and she swooned. Marcus caught her before she was even close to hitting the floor. Cradling her close in his arms, he gave nary a thought to anyone around them. Draco picked up the paper she'd dropped and palmed it; he would read it once they had Hermione back upstairs. The boys cut a path back across the dance floor in front of Marcus carrying Hermione. They were a sight to see, four men walking shoulder to shoulder and one very menacing looking man softly holding the petite witch.

Once back upstairs, Blaise transfigured a chair into a small sofa. Theo grabbed a glass of water. Draco and Greg studied the note that Hermione had dropped. And Marcus studied Hermione for any injuries. Seeing none, he gently caressed her cheek and whispered _Rennervate_.

Instead of coming awake slowly, Hermione's eyes immediately slammed open and she nearly knocked herself off the transfigured sofa. Marcus pressed a hand to each of her shoulders gently forcing her to lie back down. He wasn't letting her up until he was certain that she was unharmed.

While the boys tended to Hermione and her _mild_ panic attack, Pansy quietly slipped out the door and down to the dance floor. Except she didn't make her way into the crowd, she skirted the edges of it, coming to a small table in the far corner.

Slipping into an unoccupied seat, Pansy wasted no time getting straight to the point. "What did you say to her?"

"I haven't…"

"Stow it, I know you said something, I know you did something, and you'll explain yourself. Now!"

"We danced Pansy, that's all."

"Wrong! Cause if that was all, she wouldn't have wigged out. And you and I both know that." Pansy may know the man that sat across from her, may even trust him with her life. But when it came to her friends she wasn't going to take anyone's shit.

Sighing, the occupant of the other chair shifted in his seat. "I asked her if she felt alive." Pansy laughed. Straight up, unabashedly laughed. Her companion looked startled. "Please tell me you haven't lost it?!"

"Good gods, no." Pansy composed herself. A gleeful, but devious smile upon her lips. It all made sense now, the man sitting across from her, Hermione's panic attack, and the mysterious notes. "Now, Adrian, here's what I want you to do."

Back upstairs, Draco was asking Hermione about the note she'd dropped.

"The last few weeks I've been getting anonymous notes. Innocuous notes really."

"Hermione, you passed out on the dance floor after receiving this one. I hardly think it's innocuous." Draco pressed. "Good gods, Blaise, focus and stop snogging the damn waiter!" Draco turned back to Hermione. "Who's A?

"I've told you that too, I don't know. There are no spells on the parchments, no hexes, charms, nothing. All I know is he, and I'm assuming that aspect, is a curse breaker of sorts, a world traveler, and is enamored with me." Hermione sipped at the water Marcus handed her. "Thank you, Marcus." He nodded and sat down next to her.

"How many of these have you received? Why didn't you tell us?"

"Geeze, Draco, you aren't my mother. You didn't need to know. And as for how many, what does that matter? Just help me figure out who _he_ is!" Marcus placed his arm around Hermione's shoulders and she unconsciously moved into the shelter of his body. Hermione's mind whirled with questions, questions she had no answers to. _He_ had never approached her before, he'd only sent her notes, and always by owl. Why was now different?

Blaise stopped snogging the scrumptious waiter long enough to add his two Knuts to the mix. "Have you tried tracking the owl's trail?" Blaise ran his hands over the bare abs of the waiter, as chiseled muscles rippled underneath his exposed tanned, glistening skin, and kissed him again.

"Blaise focus!" Draco practically yelled.

Blaise huffed and dismissed the waiter. "Fine! Party pooper!" Blaise watched the waiter leave the room, admiring the toned arse encased in black leather pants that left little to the imagination.

Hermione laughed. Gods she needed that! Although she had to agree with Blaise, the man was sex on legs. Two very well defined legs.

Blaise plopped his arse down on the other side of Hermione and added his arm to the mix with Marcus's. Between these two men Hermione felt safe and protected. They'd never let anyone hurt her.

"What would you like us to do, Cara?"

Placing her hand on his thigh, she squeezed ever so slightly. "Track down A, please."

"Your wish, my command!"

~~~_time passes on_~~~

Two days after the semi disastrous night at Chester's Hermione received another note from her mysterious paramour.

_Never meant to hurt you, love. Please forgive me._

She sighed softly; he didn't even sign this one. But she knew it was him. Over the last two days she'd thought about the events that occurred that night frequently. She'd thought about the feel of his hands on hers, his breath on her neck, the electric feel of his body pressed to hers. Hermione took a deep breath to steady herself. Oh yes, she most certainly remembered and fondly at that.

She pulled out a parchment scrap at wrote him back.

_Nothing to forgive. I have a good memory now._

She sent the note back with his owl. She tried to add a tracking charm as Blaise suggested, but it didn't stick. Apparently he wasn't ready to be discovered yet.

Hours later she received a parcel. She stared at the owl, yes it was certainly his owl, but he'd never sent her a parcel before. With a hint of trepidation she opened it. She blushed and quickly closed it again. Certainly he had not done _that_?! Stealing herself, she opened the package one more time. Oh yes, he most certainly had done _that_! Slowly she read the note, once, then twice.

_These are special, meant only for you. Wear them and think of me. Be near and be known._

What did he mean be near and be known? And she couldn't wear those! That was not her style. Pansy's most definitely, but not hers. She pulled the scrap of satin out and held it before her. It was a pair of string bikini knickers in deep green. It was the naughtiest and most sensual pair of knickers she'd ever received. Actually it was the only pair of knickers she'd ever received.

Dropping the knickers in back in their package, Hermione rose from her couch and made her way to her fireplace. She gave Pansy's Floo address and in a whirl she was gone.

Landing in Pansy's living room, she stood, hands on hips, scowl on her face. Pansy looked up at Hermione's entrance, a perfectly innocuous look upon her face.

"You know who he is, don't you?"

"He sent them, then?"

"My gods, Pansy, really? You're in on this now? How did you figure out who he is? Why haven't you told me? Why the kickers? No, who is he?"

Pansy laughed and smirked all at the same time. "Which questions would you like answered first?"

"All of them!" Hermione paced the living room.

"I watched the crowd when you wigged out at the club. Figured out who was watching you most intently and went to have a tête-à-tête with him. And no, I'm not telling you who he is, that would ruin the fun! Besides, he's not dangerous, and frankly, you need more fun in your life."

"ARGH!" Hermione sank into the couch, grabbed a pillow, put it over her face and screamed as loud as she could.

"You know I'm going to make you wear them, don't you?!" It was more a statement than a question. Hermione simply looked at her friend. Pansy laughed. "They aren't that bad. Besides, I helped pick them out."

"That's how I knew you were involved. They are something you would wear."

~~End Part 1~~


	2. Part Deux

My many thanks to Red and Shini for their help in tweaking and betaing this chapter!

~~Part 2~~

Hermione was having a particular bad day. The bad day to end all bad days in her oh so humble opinion! Auror Jenkins had decided that since her map indicated that Malfoy Manor was in the center of dark activity then the Malfoy's were certainly up to something. Hermione had tried to point out that just because there was activity going on around the Manor, and by around she meant miles and miles away from it on two sides, didn't mean that the Malfoy's were at the center of the activity.

Nevertheless, Kingsley had agreed with the dimwitted Auror and issued a search warrant for the premises. Hermione had quickly owled Draco to let him know what was going on. The last thing she'd wanted was for her friend to get caught up in a vendetta some Auror had against his family. Draco had nonchalantly owled back indicating that if the Aurors wanted to search the Manor they could and they wouldn't find a damned bloody thing. Well, his note started out nonchalant and ended up more perturbed. In a side note, Draco said he was having lunch with the boys later and asked her if she'd join them.

That was the only upside to her day. Of course when she'd returned from a relaxing lunch with the boys, she laughed they could hardly be called boys anymore, her day went from bad to worse. Resuming her gloomy thoughts she remembered what happened after lunch. She was still smiling and feeling light when Auror Jenkins stomped into her map room, slammed his hands down and glared at her.

"I hope you're happy!"

Hermione stared at him, wondering what he was on about.

"There was nothing at Malfoy Manor. You're little owl to the scum gave them time to clean house first." Not giving her any time to say anything, he continued. "I don't like you, never have; you're always bending the rules to your whims. I trust you even less than I like you and you informing Malfoy of our search proves just how unworthy of trust, and this job, you are." He spat at her as though she were lower than dirt.

"Listen to me you arrogant, narcissistic blowhard. If you think for one minute that I'm going to stand here and allow you to accuse me of sabotage, then you have another thing coming."

"I'm not accusing you, I know you did it. You sit in here and play with your maps and show us only what you want us to see. You aren't helping the Aurors and the Ministry; you are helping your little _boyfriends_." He sneered the last word at her. "I'm filing charges against you for interfering in an investigation. I'm going to get the Wizengamot to snap your wand."

She didn't mean to, really she hadn't, but she just couldn't help herself. She'd hauled off and decked the contrary, conniving, arrogant man in his nose, breaking it quite nicely. Her only qualm was that she had to clean his blood off her maps. As he clutched his bleeding nose, he'd called her a bitch and stumbled away. She was sure that he wanted to stomp, but when you have your face in the air to stem blood flow it's difficult to walk a straight line. Hermione couldn't help but snicker as he left. As if that flobberworm could get her wand snapped.

Just to be on the safe side though, she'd gone to Kingsley shortly after the incident and seeing as her letter to Draco reached him not at Malfoy Manor but at Blaise Zabini's and there was no record of Draco Flooing or owling his parents, Hermione was off the hook. Auror Jenkins would not be able to file his charges. Although she was certain he would try to find other ways to make her miserable.

Once home for the evening, Hermione thought she'd be able to relax and forget about the day's events. Instead her sometimes roommate and longtime boyfriend, erm fiancé, greeted her, she groaned, and a new fight had broken out.

"I just want this day to end. A bite to eat and a soak in the tub would be great." Hermione sighed to herself as she entered her flat.

Hermione dropped her cloak on the rack and slumped back against the cool wood of her front door. When Hermione looked up she was greeted with a sour faced Ron. She could tell he wasn't happy. But whatever it was, she didn't want to deal with it.

"Hermione," Ron's tone was plaintive, "if you don't want to work anymore, it's alright, you can tell me. You didn't have to go and punch your superior to do it." His tone took on an edge of patronization. Though his face looked eager, like a child about to get free reign over the toy store.

Hermione looked at him blankly. _Did he just say that? Was he really going to go there?_ "A superior? Jenkins is _not_ superior to me. He is an arrogant, self-inflated, egotistical, narcissistic, blow hard!"

Ron approached her calmly, "I think it's time, don't you?" Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "Step down and let someone else take over for a while."

"I don't want to stop working, Ronald!" Her day had just gone from worse to cataclysmic. Now Ron was trying to get her to become Molly. And _he_ was happy about it!

"I'm not saying stop working." Although, that was exactly what he was saying. "Just that you need a break."

"Oh, I had a break today. It was lovely, watching his nose crunch beneath my fist. Would you like a demonstration?" Hermione was more than happy to give him one. Her mood was ripe for a little physical altercation.

Ron was chattering on about how wonderful a break would be, how they should go spend time with his mum, how mum could teach her all kinds of…wait, did he just say that?

"Do you honestly see me as some domestic housewife?"

"You can't go around punching superiors and still expect to keep working."

Hermione sputtered, she couldn't make her brain form a coherent sentence. Ron honestly thought she wanted to be Molly. That she _could_ be Molly. "You don't seem to get it." She threw her hands up in exasperation. "It is arrogant Aurors like Jenkins that make me want to spit nails! They are the reason that I'm stressed out. They can't tell their arse from their elbow and gods forbid they actually do their job without prejudice. And I damn well _do not_ want to be bloody Molly Weasley!" By all that was holy, Hermione Granger refused to become another Molly Weasley.

Before Ron could spit anything else out of his mouth, Hermione continued her tirade. "I hate what I do. I could give you every synonym I know for the word hate and it still wouldn't convey the depth of my loathing for my job." Hermione paced across the small space of her living room, hands clenched at her sides.

"Mione…" She turned to glare. "Sorry, Hermione. You have a good, respectable position. But…"

She drowned him out, she heard the underlying tone when he said _respectable_. He meant safe, secure, and not out in the field. This wasn't the life she wanted. She'd never minded a bit of danger. It added an edge of excitement that made living worthwhile. When they'd been on the run seven years ago, she had truly felt alive despite being on the most wanted list and running for her life.

"It doesn't make sense to quit. Not unless we're finally going to start out family."

"I feel stagnant, Ron. I need more in my life than sitting at a desk pushing papers." She needed more than trying to reign in Aurors with vendettas she added mentally. Ron gave her a funny look at the phrase 'pushing papers'. "Oh for goodness sakes, it's a Muggle expression!"

Ron took the few steps that would bring him close enough to Hermione so that he could wrap his arms around her. Hermione wasn't sure she wanted his comfort right now. His arms around her did not make her feel the same way Marcus and Blaise's arms around her had. She'd shelve that thought for later inspection. Running his hands up and down her back in an effort to sooth her; it was working…minimally, until he put his foot in his mouth in typical Ron fashion.

"It isn't…"

Hermione stepped out of Ron's embrace, pulled her wand, and pointed it at the center of Ron's chest. "I swear to gods, if you even remotely suggest what I think you are about to suggest, Ronald Weasley, I am going to hex your bits to pieces." There were few things in life that pissed Hermione off more than male bigotry that tried to suggest that women were not cut out for fieldwork. That women belonged in the home raising babies, cooking, and cleaning.

"But you like research. It's something you could do even after we have babies." _From home_, he added mentally. Ron scrambled trying to make his words anything but what he was thinking. "And when we get married you won't need…" The look in her eyes shut him up before he could say more.

Hermione poked him in the chest with her wand before sheathing it in the holster along her right forearm. "Applicable research, Ronald. I like to be able to apply my research, not just look for it for others." And really wasn't that all she was doing? She was doing research for the Aurors, trying to help them pinpoint areas that needed the most attention. But that wasn't what was happening. They were perverting her research, using it for their own ends.

She turned her back on Ron and stared out the window of their tiny apartment. "I want more out of life than staring at the same four walls every day. There has to be more in life than," she took a good look around her flat, which on occasion was their flat, "_this_."

Ron tried to comfort her, he tried to wrap his arms around her and sooth her. Hermione shrugged him off.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Ron's voice held an edge of anger.

"Do what?" Hermione asked him as she continued to stare out the window.

"Shrug me off like I'm some annoying blanket. You haven't let me touch you in over a week."

Hermione whirled around ready to bite back, but she couldn't. She hadn't let him touch her sexually in over a week. Not since…oh, oh my. A sudden realization flashed in Hermione's mind. _She_ was cheating on Ron. Oh not physically, but emotionally. Ever since her mysterious notes started to appear she'd been pulling away from Ron. Away from their relationship. Or was it that the letters gave her an excuse?

"Why can't you be like the rest of our friends? They've all gotten married, but we've been engaged for over two years. You keep refusing to set a date." Ron may have sounded like a woman grousing to a noncommittal male, but at that point he didn't care. He was tired of her rejection.

When she continued to simply stare at him, he continued. "I just want to marry you Hermione. I want you to have our babies. I want us to have the life that we always dreamed of having."

That woke Hermione up out of her stupor. "No."

"What?"

"No, Ron. It's the life you've always dreamed of. You've always dreamed of having someone like your mum. Someone to cook and clean and raise babies with no thought about their own dreams."

"That's not true. I care about your dreams."

"You don't." Her statement was flat and without rancor. "If you cared about my dreams you wouldn't push me to stay in a job I hate. You'd encourage me to do what I want to do, like I try to do for you."

"Let's just get married, and that will solve everything."

Hermione couldn't help it. She laughed a deep belly aching laugh. It bubbled up from the tips of her toes and just wouldn't quit. Ron could be so dense some days. Marriage wouldn't solve anything, it would simply add to her misery.

"What is so funny?"

Hermione found it hard to breath and form words, "You…you think…think marriage will solve everything." Her laughter took her over again, this time with a cynical edge to it.

Ron's face started to turn red; it turned redder than his hair and even redder than the Gryffindor common room. He was angry and she knew he was, but she couldn't seem to stop laughing. She collapsed to the floor in a puddle of laughter, with tears streaming down her cheeks and her hands on her ribs they hurt so bad. If it was possible steam might have rolled out from Ron's ears, but it wasn't possible, yet the thought and mental image it erected caused Hermione to laugh even harder.

Not seeing what was funny, Ron stamped his foot like a two year old and demanded that she stop laughing. He was being serious he said. They were supposed to be together always, have a family, everything his parents had.

Hermione hiccoughed and slowly pulled her composure together. Wiping tears from her cheeks she stood like the proud witch she is. She looked at her hands for a moment and plucked the ring from her left hand. She contemplated throwing it at him. But honestly, he hadn't done anything wrong to warrant that. Except thinking that his dreams were hers too and that marriage would solve everything. She couldn't really blame him for his delusion, but she could crack it.

Holding the ring between her fingers she admired it for its simplicity. It was a simple silver band holding a small diamond in the center with micro rubies at the four points. He really had chosen well, but it no longer suited.

"What are you doing? Why are you taking off your ring?" Ron's voice seemed to become hysterical.

"Here." She placed the ring in his palm and wrapped his fingers around it. "Our goals aren't the same Ron. I honestly wonder if they ever really were." She turned from him, gathered her cloak from the hook and walked out the door, not a word passing from her lips.

~~~New Beginnings~~~

For the next week Hermione ignored everything going on around her. She called out from work, she ignored all owls and Floo calls. She wasn't even seeing anyone. Hermione had holed herself up in Pansy's spare bedroom and only came out to eat and use the loo. Pansy wasn't even sure that Hermione had showered in the last week.

Pansy didn't believe that it was Hermione's break up with Ron that was bothering her. Honestly it had been a long time coming. When Hermione had come through the Floo a week ago and told her about the day from start to finish, Pansy simply hugged her friend while she cried. Pansy didn't even begin to think she understood why her friend was crying, all she could figure was that her friend just needed to get it out and this time a night out with the boys wasn't going to cover it.

Finally, on Wednesday evening, eight days after showing up, Hermione finally came out of _her_ room and sank down onto the sofa. Neatly stacked on the coffee table was a pile of letters. Some from the Weasley's, others from the boys, and directly on top was one from her mystery man. Deciding she'd save the best for last she set aside the top few letters and went for the bottom of the stack.

Molly's letter had been cordial but admonishing. She'd not understood why Hermione had to go and break poor Ronald's heart and crush his spirit. Hermione scoffed at that. She was sure that she hadn't crushed his spirit one bit. He'd bounce back with some bird or another; Ron was resilient like that. He'd "sow his oats" and then settle down and give his mother grandbabies. But it wouldn't be with Hermione.

Ginny's letter was practically a howler. Apparently one was not supposed to upset the youngest Weasley while she was pregnant. And dumping her brother was quite upsetting to the young witch. According to Ginny, Hermione was supposed to be as blissfully happy with Ron as she was with Harry and be happy to become a stay-at-home mum. Hermione threw that letter in the fire.

Not being able to take one more chastisement from the Weasley clan, Hermione tossed the letters from Fred, George, and Harry (yes she thought of him as a Weasley) into the rubbish bin. She thought about the fire, but decided she could always fetch them from the rubbish bin later if she wanted to know what they said.

Hermione had just started to open the letter from Draco when Pansy sat down beside her.

"They aren't happy, you know." It was more a statement than a question and Hermione knew it. "Were really pissed at me when I refused to let them in and drag you kicking and screaming from your bed." A small smile played at the corners of Hermione's mouth.

"I doubt I would have kicked and screamed at all Pans. I probably would have been dead weight to cart around." Hermione looked down and read Draco's note.

_I'll hex him if you want me to. You know I can't resist._

Hermione really did chuckle then. She showed the note to Pansy. "I suppose the rest of them are a lot like this."

"More or less. Blaise said he'd kiss and make it better. Greg said he'd bury Weasley up to his eyeballs. Theo, hmm, I never gave him the chance to say; couldn't keep my lips off his." Pansy laughed and sighed all at once. Hermione knew she had a thing for Theo and Theo for her, but the two of them refused to make it anything official. "I'm sure that he would have echoed the sentiment of the others if I'd given him half a chance."

"What about Marcus?"

Pansy contemplated her friend for a moment and considered if maybe Hermione had feelings for the burly, brooding man. Would that be so bad? Well it wouldn't, if another man hadn't already made a move for her. Throwing off those thoughts Pansy focused back on Hermione's question. "The others had to physically restrain him from throttling Weasley. He was convinced beyond all reason that Weasley was why you were sulking, and the way he figured it, no more Weasley, no more sulking."

"I have to quit."

"Quit what?" Pansy wasn't one to easily admit she was confused, but the abrupt shift in conversation kind of threw her.

"Work. I have to quit the Ministry. I just can't do it anymore." Hermione leaned back on the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. Life was not at all what she wanted it to be. Not in the least.

"Then I'm quitting with you."

"What? No!"

"Why not?"

"Because you're the only other one that knows what they're doing!"

"Not that it matters. The Aurors do what they want anyway, regardless of what we show them."

"Oh Pansy." Hermione hugged her friend tightly. "What would I do without you?"

"Be bored out of your gourd! Come on, we're going out to meet the boys." Pansy grabbed Hermione's hand and practically yanked her off the sofa. "Go get in a shower, and I'll get you something to wear."

Bracing herself against the bathroom door, Hermione slumped just a bit. "I can't go to the club tonight."

"Who said we're going to the club?" Pansy smirked deviously. "You just shower and I'll get you some clothes."

Sometime later Hermione finally stopped the rush of water over her skin. She wasn't sure how long she had been in the shower, and honestly didn't care. The hot water had felt divine. She hadn't realized that her pouting over the last eight days had left her so…ewe…skuzzy. Shaking off the thought of how bad she probably had to have smelled she instead focused on how refreshed the shower had made her feel.

Wrapping a towel around her petite frame she wiped away some of the condensation off the mirror and really took a good look at herself. Despite the amount of sleeping she'd been doing there were dark circles under her eyes and she looked a bit pale. Gods, she was glad no one but Pansy had seen her. And Pansy had been nicer than she should have been considering.

Shaking herself out of her reverie she opened the bathroom door, and screamed.

~~Adrian~~

Sitting on an overstuffed blue paisley sofa staring at a blank parchment was Adrian Pucey. He'd been sitting there for the last two hours trying to determine what to write to Hermione this time. She hadn't answered any of his owls over the last eight days. Each time he sent one; a note came back from Pansy. He was getting sick of hearing from her. She might be Hermione's closest girl friend and his co-conspirator, but that didn't mean that he wanted to hear from her. As far as he knew she was the only one in the know about his letters to Hermione.

Although, she tried to tell him he needed to step up his game. Try to speak to Hermione's sensual side as it were. Sure, he was interested in that side of her, but he wanted to hook her intellectual side too. He shook his head; Pansy looked at this as some kind of game, but to him, this was anything but a game.

Adrian had tried for the last few weeks to tell Hermione about him, about his life. And the last note that he'd sent her had contained a present. One he admitted was at Pansy's behest. He hadn't heard from Hermione since then. He was beginning to think that he'd lost her before he'd ever gotten her. Hell he was worried he'd lost her when he'd approached her at the club but then Pansy had come to talk to him.

Everything seemed to just be going wrong. Adrian wanted Hermione to know the type of life she could have. Not the one she seemed to be stuck in. Though if rumors were true, she hadn't even been to her job in the last eight days either. And if rumors were to be believed she wasn't in the Ministry anywhere, no one seemed to know anything. Not that he'd found anyway.

"Where are you Hermione? Why are you hiding? Why isn't anyone talking?"

Tossing the quill down on the table in front of him he leaned back on the sofa staring up at the ceiling exasperated. Everything in him wanted to ask her to join him on his next trip. Let her see what life outside of London could be like. He was a damn Slytherin for crying out loud not a simpering Hufflepuff. Why the hell couldn't he just ask her?

Voices began to drift to Adrian from the foyer behind him. Wait? Voices? Adrian stood up from the couch and went to investigate. No one but him should be able to get into his flat. How was it that there were voices coming from the other room?

Theo punched Blaise in the arm, "See, I told you I could get us in."

"Of course you could. Any of us could." Blaise chuckled and stepped through the open door. Not three steps in and he was met with a wand in his chest. Theo bumped into his back, pushing the offending wand further into his skin. "Ouch! Damn it, Pucey, put the wand down!"

"Blaise?!" Adrian's voice was a mixture of shock and surprise. "How the hell did you all get in my flat?"

Blaise pulled Theo out from behind him, "This one here is a master at wards. Can break anything."

"He shouldn't be able to break mine." Adrian groused. Blaise only smiled and slung an arm around both Theo and Adrian.

"Not that this isn't fun and all," Draco scowled, "but we do have a deadline." Theo, Blaise, and Greg all murmured in agreement. "Do you mind, Pucey, we need to talk."

Adrian ducked under Blaise's arm and made his way back towards his living room. Sitting back on the couch, he motioned for the others to take a seat.

"We're here about Hermione." Draco started.

"Did Pansy tell you?"

Draco looked started for a moment. "What do you mean, 'did Pansy tell us'? Of course she didn't. Wait, Pansy knows?"

"That explains a lot." Theo tossed out.

Adrian decided to tell the lot of them about Pansy's interference that night at the club and that she's been attempting to _help_ him ever since. He explained that he'd seen the changes in Hermione, watched her inner light burning out as it were. That he couldn't stand to see what being with Weasley and working in the Ministry was doing to her.

"You always were the quietest one of all of us, Pucey." Draco acknowledged.

"It has its purposes." Adrian continued to tell them that he'd tried to send Hermione a few notes the past eight days but he'd only ever gotten two words back from Pansy, 'not now'. She'd also been reluctant to tell him where Hermione'd been the last eight days and why no one had seen her, or anything else.

"Word around the Ministry is that she broke it off with Weasley and he's been in a right pissy mood too. Been picking fights all over the place with anyone he can. Apparently, she won't take his owls or Floo calls. Hell, she isn't even taking any of ours. We did figure out she's been at Pansy's though." Blaise explained.

"But how did you figure out _I_ was the one sending Hermione the notes? There wasn't any clue to point out who wrote them." He should know, he'd been excessively careful about the whole thing. He didn't want Hermione to know until he was good and ready for her to know.

"Wasn't hard really. Process of elimination if you will." Blaise seemed proud of this statement. "We just went through everyone with the first initial A and cross-referenced it against what Hermione had told us about what you'd told her, and voila instant answer."

Draco rolled his eyes. "It was hardly instant. It's taken us all week to figure out."

"So what are we going to do? Do you want me to stop? Stay away from her? Continue? What?" Adrian wasn't sure what his former housemates were after. They didn't seem as though there were here to warn him off. But then, the only one that seemed especially open and friendly was Blaise. The others were guarded in their expressions and body language. Adrian cursed his ability to observe and interpret; some days it was more hassle that it was worth.

"Hardly!" Adrian gave Blaise a confused look. Blaise simply laughed. "We want you to perk her up. Marcus watched the two of you on the dance floor. Though we didn't realize it was you at the time. He said she seemed to glow when she danced with you. Swore that he'd seen sparks where your skin touched hers."

This was all news to Adrian. Sure, he'd felt electric that close to her, but sparks? Really? Adrian just sat there baffled, not certain at all what he should say, let alone do.

Draco rose from his chair, the other's following suit. "We're meeting them at Tousant later if you'd like to see how she's doing."

Adrian nodded numbly and watched his former housemates leave. Tousant. He knew the place, an old French restaurant that sat along the Thames. How was Pansy getting this group of purebloods to go to a Muggle restaurant? Had they all really changed that much? He smirked, of course they had, they all doted on a Muggleborn. A bright, beautiful, enchanting Muggleborn!

~~Hermione~~

Startled, Hermione screamed, lost her grip on her towel and nearly dropped it. Actually she would have dropped it, if he hadn't tucked it gently back together again, preserving her modesty. In all honestly, it was the sight of him right outside the bathroom door that startled her so badly. She hadn't expected anyone to be there. Yet there he was looming large and filling the doorway.

"Sorry." His deep voice rumbled low.

One hand holding her towel once more, and the other over her still racing heart; she looked at him and took a deep breath. He placed his hands on her bare shoulders and pulled her into his embrace.

"Didn't mean to startle you. No one answered, and I got worried." His large hands were caressing the bare skin of her shoulders and upper back. "You alright, love?"

Hermione sighed deeply and leaned further into his embrace. It was just a few days ago that she was thinking how safe and comfortable she felt in this man's arms. So unlike how Ron had ever made her feel. He smelled of musk and man; an earthy smell that comforted her.

"I'm fine. I should dress." She mumbled into his chest, but didn't move away from him.

He pretended not to hear her, only held her to him, his head resting atop hers, his arms securely around her. Her left hand lay flat against his chest, her ear to his heart, and her right hand curled around his back. She seemed as inclined to move from their position as he was; which was not at all.

He grinned thinking of how she was only wrapped in a plush pink towel and she seemed wholly unconcerned with this fact. If he were a lesser man, he'd take advantage of her trust in him; take advantage of her undressed state. But he wasn't a lesser man, and he valued her trust in him. He lightly kissed the top of her head, slouched down and picked her up bridal style. It didn't change how she rested against him. Her left hand was still upon his chest, her ear still to his heart, and her right hand still around his back.

"Come now, let's get you ready." He turned to carry her to the spare bedroom so she could dress. But was stopped mid-stride.

"Hermione! Are you alright? What happened? Why did you scre…MARCUS!?" Pansy's voice screeched from behind him.

He knew that she could see Hermione's arm around him and her legs dangling from his right arm. He didn't turn, didn't need to. Mere seconds after her voice rang out behind him; Pansy was in front of him.

Pansy opened her mouth to chastise Marcus, fully intending to read him the riot act, but found that she couldn't. Hermione lay in Marcus's arms looking more peaceful than she had in the last eight days. She wasn't asleep, Pansy watched as Hermione snuggled further into Marcus's arms, hiding her face in his chest.

"Hermione," Pansy coaxed softly.

Hermione lifted her head ever so slightly to look at her friend. "He startled me."

Pansy couldn't help it, she laughed. This was the strangest reaction to being startled that Pansy had ever seen. She'd seen Hermione startled before, and every other time, Hermione had brandished her wand and hexed the offending person quickly.

"Isn't funny." Hermione grumbled into Marcus's chest.

He stood there, still and silent while Hermione blushed sweetly and Pansy laughed. Marcus stroked his fingers lightly on Hermione's skin as he stood there and held her. Trying to comfort her, though if truth be told, he'd much rather kiss her. The blush stealing up her cheeks was also colouring her chest, he was hard pressed to keep his eyes on her face or Pansy's.

Pansy calmed and quit laughing. She looked pointedly at Marcus, who had to avert his gaze from Hermione. "Bring her to the bedroom so we can get ready, Marcus. And no, you can't stay."

"Spoil sport."

Marcus groaned, he'd already felt every curve of Hermione's body against his, he didn't need to see them, he could picture her well enough. He did as asked though; he took Hermione into the bedroom and set her down on the bed. He had to turn away quickly before he did something he couldn't come back from. Closing the door behind him as he left, he leaned against it and adjusted himself. Gods his cock ached.

Back inside the bedroom Pansy was laying out clothes for Hermione to wear to dinner. Pansy had made a point of grabbing the knickers that Adrian had sent, determined that Hermione was going to wear them. She knew they were enchanted, but Hermione didn't. And besides, who's to know if Adrian would be anywhere nearby tonight!?

"I'm not wearing those." Hermione pointed at the string bikini knickers.

"Why not?" Pansy pouted.

Hermione groaned, "They aren't my style."

"So what if they aren't your style. You need to feel good about yourself again, and these are just the thing." After another ten minutes of coaxing, Pansy finally convinced Hermione to wear the kickers along with a matching bra. That part was Pansy's doing. A girl had to look good in everything, and matching bra and knickers was a good start.

Hermione's outfit consisted of something far more conservative than she would have ever though Pansy would choose. A simple knee length black skirt, split halfway up the back, and an off the shoulder velvet top in emerald green and trimmed in black lace around the collar.

Pansy still wouldn't tell Hermione where they were going, but as Pansy conceded to allow Hermione to wear ankle boots with a modest two-inch heel, Hermione figured that it wasn't a club they were going to.

"You still haven't told me exactly where we are going." Hermione complained as she wrapped her cloak around her.

Pansy smiled and shut the door behind them. "You'll see."

~~It all went by in a blur~~

Hermione wasn't sure what she expected when she let Pansy drag her out of the flat and into the cool London night. But hailing a cab and driving to a restaurant was not at all what Hermione expected.

They'd arrived at Tousant at nine sharp. The restaurant had an old world elegance to it. There were five-tier crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling throughout the restaurant. Yet in the center was an eight-tier chandelier that sparkled in every shade of gold and bronze that Hermione could think of. The walls were painted a similar golden hue, subtle and soothing; not gaudy as some gold hues tended to be.

There were patrons at nearly every table, but the noise level in the restaurant was hardly audible. So unlike the noise level of the Great Hall at Hogwarts or the Leaky Cauldron. It was as though there was an air of reverence for the place.

The maitre d' led Pansy and Hermione to a table in the back of the restaurant. The boys were already there, seated around a large table, quietly talking amongst themselves. Their table was round and expansive but cozy. The light from the chandelier above cast a warm glow on the table and its guests.

Seeing the boys made Hermione smile. Tears sprung to her eyes as she watched them interact with each other. She loved these guys; couldn't imagine her life without them in it anymore.

Greg was the first to notice her; he rose from his seat and hurried around the table enveloping her in a crushing hug. She did cry then, silent tears.

"Hush sweet, no reason to cry." Theo said as he ambled up to Hermione's side. Greg had released her and now it was Theo's turn to hug her tightly. Why hadn't she come to the boys a week ago? Being with them made everything better. Made all her problems seem somehow…less.

One by one the boys embraced her. Draco even threatened to chain her up in his dungeon should she ever disappear on them again. That made her laugh. She needed these men in her life. Marcus was the last to greet her, though he had seen her a short time before he hugged her anyway. The scent of him still clung to her skin where he'd held her earlier and now she took in his scent again, one of musk and man. Detangling herself from Marcus, she let him lead her to her seat between Pansy and Blaise, his hand firmly on the small of her back.

Over the course of the night, the boys had regaled her with the events of the past eight days. Even bringing her up to speed on Ron's antics. She wasn't surprised that he wasn't taking their breakup well. He was like a two year old that had lost his favorite toy. Hermione had steadfastly refused to look Marcus in the eye, even though she could feel him staring at her. She'd had a moment of weakness back in Pansy's flat, a moment where she wasn't quite certain what she would have done if Pansy hadn't shown up when she did. She was a bit ashamed of herself. Not that it was Marcus's fault, because it wasn't; but it didn't stop her from feeling as though she'd done something she shouldn't have.

About an hour into their dinner, Hermione felt it. A slight tingle in her nether region. It lasted only a moment and she attributed it to her current lust for Marcus. A few minutes after it passed the first time, it returned, stronger this time, an insistent vibration of her knickers.

She gripped the arms of her chair, which thankfully were out of sight of her companions. She crossed her legs beneath the table, the vibration bringing with it a wave of pleasure and a deep ache in her belly. Realization dawned on her and she glared at Pansy next to her. Pansy seemed oblivious, though, Hermione thought she saw the other witch's lips twitch.

Hermione closed her eyes briefly and tried to get a handle on the vibration of her knickers. Tried every silent spell to get them to stop. _Oh, my gods, had this been what he meant when he said be near and be known?_ He'd charmed the knickers to react to his presence. The vibration was increasing, but Hermione couldn't clench her legs together any tighter.

_Gods, Marcus was watching her now_. _What was she going to do?_ She tried to paint a smile on her face and listen to what Draco was saying. She couldn't. Rising from her seat she excused herself to the lady's room. Marcus watched her with concern. Pansy watched with a knowing grin, while the rest of the boys seemed oblivious.

Once in the loo Hermione quickly shut and locked the door. She expected the vibration to ease when she'd retreated from the table, but it hadn't. It almost seemed as though he knew, well duh, of course he knew. Hermione could smack herself for not realizing that sooner. She tried to remove the knickers from her body, only to find they were stuck in place. There was no taking them off. She pressed her palm to her sex, pressing the vibrating knickers harder against her aching center. She rubbed back and forth, but it wasn't enough.

Languidly she slipped her hand into her knickers. Well, at least they accommodated that, she thought wryly. She was so wet she was sure her essence would start dripping past the knickers soon. She slipped two fingers inside herself, while her thumb rubbed at her aching clit. Her thoughts drifted as she fingered herself. Thoughts to being held in Marcus's arm, of being pressed against his hard muscled body. Her thoughts shifted suddenly, and it was no longer Marcus in her vision, but long, elegant fingers were replacing her own and the voice from the club was crooning in her ear. _Feel me, Hermione. Know me, see me. Take me in. Come for me, kitten._ Hermione wanted to cry out, the pleasure was overwhelming. But she couldn't, didn't want anyone to hear. Her fingers moved faster, her thumb pushed harder on her clit, she was so close. _That's it, kitten, come for me._ The motion of her fingers mixed with the vibration of the torturous knickers and the voice in her head sent Hermione over the edge. Biting down on her lip to muffle the scream she wanted to let loose, her orgasm crashed over her and through her.

Once she recovered enough to move, she washed her hands, straightened her hair and returned to the dining room. Pansy was still grinning she noticed and Marcus was still watching her intently. She knew he'd ask her later what had happened, and she wasn't sure she could bring herself to tell him. She was sure her cheeks were still flushed as it were.

Adrian had disillusioned himself when he arrived at Tousant. Tonight he needed anonymity to watch her without interference. For a time he contented himself to sit at a small table by the window, well out of Hermione's vantage point. But as the night wore on, he wanted to get closer to her. Needed to get closer to her.

She seemed to come alive around his former housemates. Something she'd never done around those idiot Gryffindor friends of hers. When she started to squirm in her seat he realized she must have been wearing his knickers. A thrill went through him. Whether she had chosen to wear them on her own or with a little coaxing from Pansy, he didn't care. She was wearing them!

When she excused herself to the lady's room he followed. He wasn't able to get into the loo with her, but he didn't need to. He waited on the other side of the door, listening. The charm that he'd placed on the knickers was more complex than he'd let Pansy believe. Not only would they vibrate in his presence, but they'd also allow his voice to carry to her ears only.

He could hear her moaning, trying to stifle her voice as the pleasure rolled through her. He smirked, she wouldn't be able to take them off until she'd come and the knickers wouldn't quit vibrating until she'd come or he issued the command for them to stop. And he wasn't doing that. He wanted her to come. He wanted her to think of him.

Gripping himself through his trousers he had to stifle his own moan. How he wanted her hand on him, her mouth on him. Sex wasn't his first priority with Hermione, but knowing she was on the other side of the door, most likely fingering herself, he wanted her.

Adrian closed his eyes, and imagined that he was standing directly in front of Hermione. He'd scrunch her skirt about her waist, slip her panties to the side and slide his fingers into her. Whispering into the ear of the image he'd created in his mind, "Feel me, Hermione. Know me, see me." It was all he could do not to take his cock in his fist. He contented himself with whispering to Hermione and simply holding his hand to his cock through his trousers. "Take me in. Come for me, kitten." Gods he needed her to come. He wanted to come, on her, in her, oh especially in her. She was moaning louder now, he could imagine her fingers moving more swiftly, pressing harder within her. "That's it, kitten, come for me." And she did.

He stayed by the lady's room door as she exited, watching her walk back to her table. She wasn't quite as steady on her feet as he was sure she'd like to be. He smiled, sensual was a fun road to take.

Adrian saw Marcus watching her, he was silently scrutinizing her every move. Did he know? Could he? Surely Pansy was the only other one to know about the knickers. He'd have to be careful when Marcus was around; he seemed the most protective of Hermione.


End file.
